


if we only live once I wanna live with you

by isloremipsumafterall



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isloremipsumafterall/pseuds/isloremipsumafterall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>d'Artagnan doesn't arrive in Paris seeking revenge and paths are changed, Porthos falling more and more in love with Madame Bonacieux whose help they've seeked to save Athos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if we only live once I wanna live with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fonapola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonapola/gifts).



Athos kept refusing their help up until the point that Porthos exploded on him in anger.

 

“We are trying to save you.”

 

“A lost cause.”

 

Aramis had to hold him back from attacking the bars that separated them from Athos at that.

 

“Athos isn’t there anything you can tell us to help you out of such a situation.”

 

Athos sighed, the slump in his shoulders a sign of defeat though if it was to their request or life in general Porthos didn’t know.

 

“If you seek the help of getting into the Red Guard’s hideout I would suggest talking to Madame Bonacieux, she has been helpful in such matters before.”

 

Porthos grunted, relieved they were finally getting somewhere, “And where might this Madame Bonacieux be?”

 

“Nearby the fountain with the statue of our late King, her house is marked by the sign of a tailor and if you want her to hear you out than drop my name.”

 

“Does this Madame have a first name?” Aramis cut in, smoothing down his moustache and Porthos nearly laughed that he’d be thinking such thoughts at a time like this.

 

“I wouldn’t Aramis.” Athos gave him a reproachful stare. “Her name is Constance.”

 

~~

 

“You need me to what?” Constance was a short tempered red headed woman, she had only softened at their intrusion when they explained that Athos required their help and assured them inside without delay.

 

“Please Madame Bonacieux, we require your help. A diversion of such if you will. You will make a rather attractive one.”

 

The slap echoed in the room and Porthos couldn’t keep his laughter in, amused at seeing Aramis taken down a notch.

 

“You talk to her.” Aramis muttered from the corner of his mouth as he rubbed his cheek.

 

Constance’s glare when he stood up made him mumble an apology before continuing on, she relaxed a little at that.

 

“I realize this is a lot to take in Constance.” The use of her surname dropped from his lips far too easily but instead of being angry it just made her pay attention more and he wondered if perhaps the title of Madame was not to her liking. Or the last name that came with it.

 

Regardless he cleared his throat to venture forth, “Athos asked for you personally, said you’d helped him before.”

 

“I knew I should not have.” Constance breathed out, “How you put up with his trouble I’ll never know.”

 

“I like to think it’s because he’s willing to put up with mine.” Porthos grinned and when Constance glanced up at him, the sides of her lips slightly upturned it gave him more hope this venture wouldn’t end in failure.

 

“All right, but I don’t wish to speak of this again do you hear me.”

 

She looked behind him towards Aramis at that who smiled innocently and it made her exchange a look with Porthos.

 

“If he mentions it I’ll knock him out.” Porthos promised with a shrug.

 

“I appreciate it.” Constance turned towards the door, “Now I believe we have work to do.”

 

~~

 

The assault on the base had gone well, between himself and Aramis they had ended up securing the Captain of the unit.

 

It wouldn’t have been possible without Constance’s distraction, something that almost had himself and Aramis distracted at the same time as well.

 

“You did this for Athos once before?” Porthos asked, shaking off his jacket to pass to her and she huddled into the warmth of it, the jacket nearly engulfing her.

 

“I thought I said we weren’t to talk about it.” Constance huffed, blowing an errant curl out of her eyes.

 

“Believe that was this one, no mention of the one before.” Porthos grinned at her and she rolled her eyes but looked rather pleased with herself.

 

“You’ve got what you came – you’re bleeding.” Constance nearly dropped his jacket as she darted forward, taking in the wound that was sluggishly leaking where Porthos had taken a hit from a sword.

 

“It’s no worries, Aramis will have me stitched right up.” Porthos tried to assure her but Constance pressed her hand against it, slowing the blood even more and making Porthos shiver from the sensation of her cold hand against him.

 

“Does this happen often?” Constance asked, frowning at him and in his attempt to wipe away her concern he was a little too blasé.

 

“I’ll tell you about this scar another time.” He touched the one over his left eye and laughed but Constance’s brow remained furrowed, she bit her lip and pressed harder against his wound.

 

“Constance it’s fine.” Porthos said gruffly, unsure of what to do with this concern – it was only his Musketeer brothers and Charon and Flea who had cared what happened to him before, that Constance would after such a short time warmed his heart.

 

He reached down to rest one hand over top of hers and smiled as best he could in assurance.

 

“You live an interesting life Monsieur du Vallon.” Constance murmured under her breathe just barely loud enough for him to hear and he was taken back by what sounded like envy.

 

Before he could question it Aramis came to their sides having finished trying up the last of guards.

 

“Hurt again I see.” Aramis raised an eyebrow at them that inched up even more at the sight of Constance holding her hand to his side.

 

“Is he always this slow or tonight just special?” Constance drawled making both Aramis and Porthos snicker.

 

“You Madame Bonacieux are a delight.” Aramis grinned at her and though she scoffed she grinned back.

 

“That she is.” Porthos agreed and missed the curious look Aramis threw him as he was too enraptured by soft look in Constance eyes and the flush on her face.

 

~~

 

It was a few days after the celebration of Athos’ release that Porthos made his way back to the Bonacieux house to visit Constance.

 

“Porthos!” She froze when she opened the door, blinking at him, “Don’t tell Athos has gotten himself into trouble again so soon.”

 

Porthos laughed loud enough to surprise Constance’s neighbour at the noise, the small woman looking at them in surprise before scowling their way and Constance snickered at that, pulling him into her house.

 

“Won’t this create a scandal of sorts?” Porthos asked, knowing how gossip got around.

 

“They’ll talk for certain but let them. So long as Monsieur Bonacieux isn’t aware I have no mind for it.” Constance turned away at that but Porthos caught the morose expression on her face and once again worried for the reason.

 

“Constance…”

 

“What can I do for you Porthos?” Constance turned back, her expression neutral again.

 

“I came to thank you.” Porthos explained, deciding to go with his real reason for coming.

 

“Oh?”

 

Porthos nodded and then held up one finger, digging into the bag at his side and pulling out a pistol and offering it to her.

 

“You brought me a gun?” Constance sounded incredulous, staring at him.

 

Porthos scratched the back of his neck with one hand, shuffling on his feet and realizing how awkward it seemed.

 

“You were staring at mine during the fighting I thought…you might like to learn how to fire it?”

 

That caught her interest, her eyes lighting up.

 

“On one condition.”

 

Porthos nodded, already agreeing to it.

 

“Teach me how to use that sword too.” She reached over and tapped the one strapped to his belt, “Without throwing it away and using my fists.” She teased.

 

Porthos beamed at her, “It’s a deal.”

 

~~

 

She stopped by the garrison quite a few times as the months passed on, sometimes visiting Aramis to get advice on needlework and sometimes visiting Athos to help drag him from a stupor.

 

Mostly to see Porthos.

 

“I brought you books to read, if you have the time off that is.” Constance set them down at her desk and Porthos nodded his head in thanks.

 

She’d been impressed when she found out he had taught himself to read before she’d just insisted it made sense as he taught himself everything else.

 

The sun shone lazily into the room, making it hotter than usual that afternoon and sapping all energy from them.

 

Constance had pushed her sleeves up of her dress, Porthos had undone the laces on his shirt to open it up a little and shed his usual leather jacket.

 

She grabbed one of the books and walked closer to him, sitting next to him on the bed and passing him the book.

 

“Read a passage to me.” She asked, blue eyes begging him and though he felt slightly subconscious over his guttered accent from the streets he opened the book up and began to read the passages, ignoring the heat for the opportunity to sit close to her.

 

~~

 

Charon wanted him out of the city and in truth Porthos was tempted to do so as his prospects here were slowly slimming with his name being dragged into the mud.

 

He morosely took a drink from his cup when he heard light footsteps, no doubt Flea returning.

 

Porthos turned and opened his mouth to greet her but shut it at the sight of Constance behind her, dressed as she had been the night they’d attacked the guards, the dress hugging her every curve.

 

“She was looking for you,” Flea stated, bemusedly looking between the two of them and Porthos vowed to talk to her about it later at the slight flash of hurt in her eyes.

 

“The things I do for you.” Constance muttered as she walked forward. She sat down across from him, looking over the table and resting a hand on his.

 

“Are you hurt?” She asked quietly.

 

“Just my head.”

 

“So no differences there then.” She teased but squeezed his hand, a sign she grateful.

 

Porthos snorted at her joke before turning serious, “Constance you shouldn’t have come, it isn’t safe here.”

 

“Aramis and Athos have a message for you – about your friend Charon.” She hesitated, “And I needed to make sure you knew that someone was on your side and believed you.”

 

Porthos was taken aback, gaping at her and behind him he heard Flea humming in consideration and then step around them to take a seat at Constance’s side.

 

“What’s this message then?” Flea asked, making them realize they were still staring at each other and holding hands.

 

Porthos pulled away with a flush.

 

‘Later’ Flea mouthed to him and then set her attention to hearing what Constance had to say.

 

Porthos’ hand tingled with the loss of heat from Constance’s, the memory of her hands on his playing in his mind and it was only the sudden anger of betrayal when he heard what Charon had done that washed it away.

 

He very nearly threw the table across the room, standing and pacing, every word out of his mouth a curse.

 

“Porthos,” Constance caught him as he paced, holding onto his arm, “We’ll fix this.”

 

His anger abided slightly at the conviction in her eyes.

 

As she turned to bring Flea into the conversation to hatch a plan Porthos wished he could reach out and hug her to show his gratitude that she was there.

 

Another time perhaps.

 

~~

 

He hated Monsieur Bonacieux and made it no secret.

 

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Porthos growled one night while at Constance’s, holding out his hand for her bandage as he picked up a hot grate to get at the fireplace, forgetting the metal was too warm in his anger.

 

Constance remained silent, not looking at him.

 

Porthos watched her, falling silent himself and took in her every movement, the grace and fluidity within it.

 

She had proven a quick study with the sword, dancing around him with an ease that had him laughing every time and reaching out to grab her by the waist to push her off guard and show her how she could escape, holding her close and –

 

“Do you love him?” Porthos asked quietly.

 

Constance stopped, the bandages in her hand unraveling.

 

“No.” She looked up at him, tearful in the realization.

 

His good hand reached out to cup her cheek, thumb brushing just underneath her eye to wipe the tear away.

 

“I don’t know what to do.” Her voice wavered in the uncertainty, she pushed closer into his hand and closed her eyes, breathing out a stuttered sigh.

 

When she did open her eyes again they were no longer wet but still sad, catching Porthos’ brown eyes in a look of defeat and his shoulders fell.

 

Paris was a harsh world from those that would leave their husbands and fall in disgrace, to live in the bottom of society.

 

Porthos knew better than anyone of that.

 

“We’ll figure something out.” He promised, pulling her in close and ignoring the pain in his one hand in order to wrap his arms around her and offer what comfort he could.

 

~~

 

“To hell with a wife who cannot be bothered to stay where she belongs.” Jacques swore when Aramis and Porthos both couldn’t tell him where she was.

 

It was enough and Porthos leaped from his chair with a bellow, slamming his fist into Jacques face and continuing forward until Aramis grabbed him.

 

“You don’t deserve her.” Porthos said, white hot heat flooding him and he wished that Aramis would let go so he could show Jacques just how angry he was.

 

Jacques wiped the side of his mouth, spitting at the ground in front of Porthos, “You are mistaken, its she who doesn’t deserve me for putting up with her flights of fancy, running off with the lot of you Musketeers who serve no purpose than to be play things for the King. I believe I’ll go to the Red Guards, they’ll have the answers I seek and once I find her I will remind her not to stray again.”

 

It took Athos standing and grabbing hold of him as well to keep Porthos down.

 

“What do we do?” Porthos fumed as soon as Jacques had left.

 

Athos and Aramis exchanged glances, their plan had hinged on all of them being available to take Milady into custody, even using the efforts of the new recruit, d’Artagnan.

 

“Find her.” Aramis let him go, stepping back, “We need to find her but need as many people it takes for this to work.”

 

“You know the city best,” Athos sighed, inclining his head in reluctance but it was clear he wished for Constance’s safety as well, “We’ll take care of this, you find Constance.”

 

~~

 

In the end he hadn’t needed to for as soon as he got to the door Constance came barrelling out of it, her clothes and hair in disarray.

 

“Porthos!” Her eyes widened in relief, rushing forward and he welcomed her with open arms, clutching her close to him and breathing into her hair with relief that she was alive.

 

It took several moments for them to part, only the groaning from inside the room alerted them that they should be moving and Porthos grabbed hold of her hand as he pulled her down the alleyway.

 

“Constance what happened to you?” His hands hovered over her, taking in her appearance again once they had stopped somewhere safe.

 

“Milady,” Constance spat the name out, “She knew I was an old friend of Athos’ and friend to the Musketeers. Tricked me into there and had me watched.”

 

Constance looked furious, aside from the scratches alongside her face she appeared physically fine.

 

“Athos should have her in custody by now.” Porthos relaxed, glancing at the sun in the sky to estimate the time and meeting spot they had arranged to catch Milady.

 

Constance’s hands shook, her face paling as it all caught up to her and Porthos held her to him as she inched closer.

 

He swallowed hard, realizing how close they had come to her possibly being lost forever had things gone horribly wrong.

 

In a state of shock they trailed back to her place and only when Porthos saw the door did he freeze, remembering Jacques words.

 

Before he could say anything however Constance tore from his arms and rushed forward at the sight of the door crooked on its frame.

 

He hurried after her, her name on his lips that died once he entered the room.

 

On the floor lay Jacques Bonacieux, a gunshot wound in his chest and the room in complete disarray around him and a sign of robbery.

 

Constance slid to the floor, covering her mouth and shaking.

 

Porthos kneeled down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and turning her away from the body on the floor.

 

“What am I to do now Porthos?” Constance whispered in horror.

 

Porthos didn’t have an answer for her, merely holding on tighter.

 

~~

 

She wore black to the funeral as was traditional, all four of the Musketeers stood by her as they covered the grave, Porthos’ fingers brushed against her own in comradery.

 

“You can stay at the garrison. Treville’s already agreed.” Porthos said as they walked away from the graveyard, the other three splitting away after giving their consolations.

 

“No,” Constance shook her head, holding it high and she looked beautiful despite the sorrow that had been pushed on her. “I built a name for myself in that house and I’ve enough money left to continue both inn and tailoring and should things come worse I hear the Queen is seeking help.”

 

“You’re certain?”

 

Constance took his hands in hers, squeezing his fingers and smiling at him sadly, “I’m certain Porthos, I need to do this myself.”

 

“If you need help – anything-” He broke off as she leaned up to press a kiss to his cheeks.

 

“Time Porthos, I need time.”

 

He nodded, swallowing and bringing her hands to his lips to brush a soft kiss against them.

 

Then without another word he offered Constance his arm and escorted her home, leaving her at the doorway with one last hesitating look.

 

~~

 

Porthos groaned at the knocking at his door, the alcohol from the night before still swimming in his head.

 

Standing up he shrugged on a loose shirt nearby and went to open the door, grumbling, “This had best be- Constance.”

 

She stood before him wearing her usual red chemise and purple corset and skirts, smiling softly.

 

It had been three months seen he’d last seen her and even longer since he’d seen that smile and Porthos answered it with a brilliant one of his own.

 

“Does this mean…?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, hand falling between the two of them.

 

She nodded, surprisingly shy, “Yes.”

 

They moved at once, falling into each other’s arms and he got a grip on her waist, pulling her back with him to land on the ground with the door shutting behind her, cushioning her fall and she laughed, light and happy.

 

“This how you greet all the women at your door.” She asked, still laughing.

 

“Just the one.” Porthos replied, uncaring how he might sound and knowing it was worth it for the glow on her face.

 

She kissed him, her hands cupping his face and she tasted like the sweet bread of the morning meal; his hands came up of their own accord to tangle in her hair, laughter swallowed in the kiss of his delight that he could do so now.

 

“Have I mentioned I love?” Porthos’ voice was lower when the kiss broke, his eyes darkening as he watched Constance lick her lips and beam at him.

 

“Not yet.”

 

“I do,” Porthos sat up, Constance resting in his lap and she draped her hands over the back of his neck and looked up at him, bemused.

 

“That so?”

 

“Hm,” Porthos nodded, pressing a kiss to her neck and continuing upwards as he spoke, “Love how you’ll do anything for friends and the way your eyes look when you’ve been challenged and that curl you can never keep down.”

 

At that he tucked said curl back behind her ear.

 

“Porthos,” Constance’s voice wavered, “You really don’t have to.”

 

“You deserve to hear it.” Porthos shook his head, “You make your own way in life and it’s admirable and I love you for it.”

 

Her breath caught in her throat and Constance leaned in to kiss him deeply once again. She rested her forehead against his cheek once the kiss broke, curling against him and it made his heart race fast in chest.

 

“I missed you.” He heard her whisper and tightened his arms as though to take all the pain away from her.

 

“Missed you,” He agreed, “Gotten some new scars since you haven’t been around.”

 

Constance groaned and pulled back a little, “I leave you alone for a few months and you’re off charging into place and getting hurt.”

 

“You love me for it.” Porthos’ chest puffed up a bit at that, stated with pride.

 

Constance sighed but smiled, “Yes. Yes, I do.”


End file.
